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All posts for the month June, 2013

Let’s reflect for a moment on the beauty of bottom spanking.

Bottoms, how I love them! They are everywhere. Everyone has one. It may be one that’s longing to be touched, prodded, poked, pinched, spanked, thrashed and caned. Of course, it’s so much better if the bottom is bare. Proceed with caution! Go easy on the bottom if the owner is female. Chances are, a male bottom can take a lot more punishment! Or is that just a tad sexist? Ouch!

Erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne

“Kevin! Downstairs immediately!”

Carl Jacobson was a strict father, and he knew his 18-year-old son would jump as soon as he was summoned. The two lived alone, following the untimely divorce caused by the unfaithfulness of both parents. The modern terraced home backed on to a car park, maintained by the local district council. The car park was shielded from the road by brick walling interspersed by sturdy wooden fencing panels.

“In the living room, now! I’ve got a bone to pick with you. Come on. Get your sorry arse in gear!”

Kevin hurried down the stairs, passing his father. Glares were exchanged, and father landed a resounding slap on his son’s bottom as he passed. Kevin reasoned that his dad must have had a bad day at work.

“Kevin, I thought I’d told you not to take a short cut through the car park?”

“Yes, you did, Dad. But it’s hard to resist when the fencing has been vandalised. If I cut through rather than walking round the block, it saves a good couple of minutes. That’s the difference between catching the bus and missing it.”

“Don’t worry about that, son. I’ll be waking you up earlier in future! I told you not to cut through there as it only encourages the vandals who damage the fence every time the council repairs it.”

“Dad, it’s the will of the people. The council should take the fence down and let people cut through.”

“Rubbish! That wall and the fencing give us tenants a bit of privacy and shield us from the noise of the main road. Little kids are prevented from rushing into the busy road.”

“Yes, Dad. Whatever.”

“Don’t adopt that attitude with me, Kevin. I went to see my old teacher, Mr Grimworthy yesterday. You know, the old chap who lives on the other side of the road?”

“Oh him! The shrivelled oldie!”

“Respect, Kevin! Show some respect! Anyway, I was chatting to him the other day. He told me he’d seen you and Wayne vandalising the fencing, pulling down the uprights.”

“Oh!”

“Yes! Oh indeed! I’m not happy, Kevin, I’m not happy at all. What are you going to do to make amends?”

“Shit Dad, I don’t know! I’m sorry!”

“I don’t like that shit word, Kevin! Although you are very much in it! You’re making me very annoyed. Very annoyed indeed! Very, very annoyed. Mr Grimworthy felt sorry for me, which must be a first! He never felt sorry for me when he was leathering and caning my arse at school!”

“No, Dad. This is all very embarrassing.”

“It’s more than embarrassing son. Mr Grimworthy had a suggestion as how to make things better, however.”

“He did?”

“Yes. The nice old chap has lent me one of his school canes. Possibly one that was used on me all those years ago, I suppose.”

Kevin was feeling a bit mellow after a full week at work, so the significance of what his father was saying was lost on him, to start with. However, Jacobson soon outlined his plans.

“Dad, you can’t! It’s illegal!”

“No, Dad, you can’t. Please!”

“I can and I will. Now, I’ll do it later this evening, when I’ve had a chance to practice on some cushions. In the meantime, you can arrange a suitable time with Wayne for the pair of you to repair the fencing. At your own expense!”

“You’re not going to cane him then?” asked Kevin, resigned to his fate.

“No, I’m not. He’s not my problem and I don’t particularly like his folks.”

“Dad, it’s not fair!”

“Tough!”

A couple of hours later, Kevin could hear the unmistakable sound of the cane in action. His father was whacking some cushions in the living room. The sound could be heard in Kevin’s bedroom as it was immediately above. His father was admiring the cane. What a wicked weapon it was! Yes, Mr Jacobson’s mind raced back to his school days and his many encounters with the rattan rod. It was even worse than Grimworthy’s old brown leather strap, which stung like mad, but didn’t mark and cut quite like the cane.

“KEVIN!”

It was a sound Kevin had dreaded even more than the sound of the cane in action. It was the sound of his father calling him down, just like a naughty boy. And, just like a naughty schoolboy, he was going to get his bottom caned!

“Dad. I’m sorry for what I did. Can’t we sort this out like adults?”

“No we can’t! You are a petty teenage vandal, and I cannot think of anything more appropriate than a good thrashing. I wanted Mr Grimworthy to watch, but he’s not very mobile at the moment. So I’ve arranged to call him on the cordless phone. He can then listen to your beating on his speakerphone.”

“Oh Dad!”

Dad wasn’t listening. Instead he was dialling his old teacher. The former pupil and teacher had a jovial conversation for a minute or two, while Kevin shifted from foot to foot, biting his lip with barely suppressed aggression. Father laid the phone on the sofa, and fetched the crook-handled cane from its hiding place. Kevin had never seen a cane before. It looked fearsome. His father swished it through the air a few times before slamming it down on the sofa next to the phone. It made a wicked and frightening crack as it made impact. Jacobson picked up the phone to ask his old teacher whether he’d heard it OK. Indeed he had!

“Right then! Jeans and pants down, Kevin, and the bend over the arm of the sofa. Mr Grimworthy will then be able to hear everything!”

It dawned on Kevin that it might be best to suppress any yells or cries. But how easy would that be? He’d barely been spanked before, let alone thrashed! He thought about it some more. His bottom was now naked as instructed and sticking up in a most humiliating and submissive posture. The shame of it! Then suddenly, the cane whipped down, biting the teen flesh with a vengeance and leaving a distinctive red line. Kevin gasped and then groaned as the pain kicked in. A second stroke followed rapidly, then a third, then a fourth. Kevin couldn’t control himself! Each stroke was now accompanied by a loud exclamation of pain. Grimworthy was listening intently on the other end of the line, trousers and briefs lowered, and cock in hand!

“AAAARRRGH!” Kevin cried as a fifth stroke lashed him. Jacobson was now getting the hang of it all, and enjoying himself. In a frenzy, he lashed further strokes down viciously and relentlessly until a baker’s dozen had been delivered. By now, Kevin was sobbing uncontrollably. Father delivered one last stroke right on target, before throwing the cane down on the sofa, next to the phone. Old Mr Grimworthy’s penis was stiff and throbbing as he’d enjoyed listening to the action. Both Jacobson senior and junior were also experiencing erections. It had been a fulfilling evening for all involved!

“How did I do?” asked the father.

“Sounded just right,” said Grimworthy down the line, “You can keep that cane. He might need a reminder.”

“Indeed, he might. Am I still sending him round a week today for him to apologise in person and take a caning from you as well?”

“Yes. I’ve got plenty of canes. Send him round. You can come and watch if you like. I’ve found my faithful old leather strap too.”

“Oh I remember that only too well. Shall we say 7pm, next Friday.”

“Yes! Yes!”

A few days later, the fence had been repaired by Kevin and Wayne. Kevin walked past the fencing, only to find it had been tagged by a graffiti artist. The word ‘CANE’ had been sprayed in bright orange! Was it a threat or a warning? Who had sprayed it? Surely it wasn’t Kevin’s father?

Illustrated erotic fiction by Rod Cayenne

“What we have here, my girl, is a genuine ILEA school cane.”

“ILEA? Is that the Swedish furniture shop?”

“No, no, no! Are you trying to be smart with me? I-L-E-A, do try to keep up my girl! ILEA stood for Inner London Education Authority, part of the GLC.”

“GLC?”

“GLC stood for Greater London Council. All the ILEA school canes were stamped to show they were approved models, you see?”

“Yes, I think so. As opposed to unapproved ones?”

“Yes, it was to discourage teachers from acquiring more severe canes of their own. Which was quite easy to do as London was a major centre for importing rattan and similar canes just prior to the abolition of corporal punishment.”

“Quite a good idea to stamp them then, I suppose. That thing looks beastly enough as it is.”

“Yes, I suppose it is. Of course, the GLC, ILEA and school caning were abolished by the meddling Thatcher government. Anyway lass, there’s a reason why I’m showing you this cane.”

“I thought there might be, Mr Buckhouse.”

“Yes, you’re a good lodger in some ways, young Jones. But the smashed window and the dope smoking are major disappointments. I thought a taste of the cane might be in order? You seemed to be interested in the topic when we talked earlier in the week.”

“Well, I could pay for the window, but not just yet. As for the cane, well, I don’t want you getting your jollies at my expense!”

“YOU WHAT? You cheeky little minx! I was only trying to help set you back on the straight and narrow, you know! You certainly have a sharp tongue there, Miss!” He paused a little, perhaps for dramatic effect, then said, “I’m hurt. Perhaps you’d better start looking for alternative accommodation?”

“Anything? Anything? The cane, then?”

“Yes, yes, alright then! If I can keep my knickers on?”

“Well, that seems unduly lenient to me. I’ll tell you what, if you can take six of the best without standing up or swearing, then they can stay on. But disobey me, and they’ll be coming right off! Is that clear? Do we have a deal?”

“Yes we do, as long as I don’t have to pay for the window.”

“If you take six, we’ll forget about the window and the dope.”

“It’s a bit worse than a spanking, my girl! You might find you benefit from it though. It might cure you of the smoking and dope. Utterly disgusting habits! You’d better remove your skirt and bend over the end of the bed.”

Swish-crack! Buckhouse swung the cane down on the girl’s beautiful bottom. Despite the knickers being firmly in place, little was left to his imagination. Her pert buttocks were, if anything, emphasised by the skimpy panties, which held and moulded the treasure below. Unfortunately, the girl was taken rather by surprise by the impact and pain. She leapt up, clutching her bottom, and squealed!

“What did I tell you, Miss Jones?”

Gasping still from pain, she turned to face him. Tears were forming.

“I’m sorry, Mr Buckhouse. I had no idea how much that would hurt.”

“Indeed, Miss Jones. Well, let me tell you that I wasn’t surprised by how much that hurt you. You really are a stupid girl. Smashing my window, smoking dope and now disobeying me! Surely you know about the cane’s reputation?”

“Well yes, but I thought it was all a bit of an exaggeration! Shows how wrong you can be, I suppose!”

“Yes. However, it doesn’t alter anything, Miss Jones. I said it was knickers off if you stood up or swore, didn’t I?”

“You did, but please no! That cane really hurts!”

“Get them off now, girl. This is an occasion unsuited to clemency. This is a punishment, not a game,” he said, adopting a sterner, stentorian tone.

Reluctantly, she nodded and gently eased her black knickers down, and then off completely. Her hands tried to cover her bottom and her front. She was blushing with embarrassment. As well she might!

“Bend over and stop wasting my time!” he boomed again, flexing the cane in his hairy hands. He swished the rattan through the air menacingly, while his lodger eased herself down over the edge of the bed, a red line clearly visible on her buttocks. Mr Buckhouse liked what he saw. He liked it a lot. He felt his cock stiffening as he surveyed the submissive posterior so wilfully displayed to him. He could even see the treasure beyond; her inviting pleasure zones. To cap it all, the little minx was wearing stockings and suspenders. She obviously had a great sense of occasion.

“Let’s get on with it. Another five strokes. Stay in place, if you know what’s good for you.”

She said nothing, and then the cane lashed down again. She squealed, just like before, but apart from that she retained her composure and position. The throbbing pain in her bottom was intense and just would not quit. She began to think that there was no way she could endure another four strokes when a third one landed purposefully, causing her to gasp and writhe.

“Keep still,” he said, this time more softly. He didn’t really want her to be motionless, but it seemed like the right thing to say at that precise moment. However, she continued to wriggle, showing some disobedience. He sighed, and decided to say nothing. After all, he was enjoying the show. Indeed, her writhing was similar to the sex act, and he was getting more and more turned on. It was a wonderful experience and he had engineered it to some extent by telling her all about the cane’s use in schools. He bent the cane in his hands and surveyed the striped target with delight.

Stroke four lashed down, but she was riding the pain more successfully, so she remained silent. Buckhouse was disappointed. He wanted cries, wriggling and general disobedience! He’d have to make the next stroke harder, wouldn’t he?

And so it was that with a simple flick of the wrist, the fifth stroke was much, much harder. The noise as the cane made impact was impressive, even to an experienced caner like Buckhouse. His lodger cried out with anguish and wriggled her bottom most enticingly, and then thrust it up ready for the final stroke.

He decided to wait. The girl seemed almost eager. That hadn’t been in his plan, and he was confused momentarily. Surely she wasn’t one of those masochists who enjoyed a good beating? The inviting bottom thrusting up before him indicated that perhaps she was a new convert to the pleasures that only the cane can bring.

With a loud crack the sixth and final stroke hit her. She gasped and began to sob.

After a few moments of admiring the view, he put the cane down on the dressing table and said, “You can get up now, girl. You did very well for a first-timer.”

She didn’t seem to hear or process his remarks at first. Then slowly she rose, and started to rub her bottom with her hands, quite vigorously.

“Did you get your jollies, Mr Buckhouse?”

“Cheeky! But, if you must know, then yes, I rather think I did, young Jonesy. You know, if you let me do this regularly, we could be looking at a very low rent for you…”

“Mmmm. I rather like the sound of that. That caning was certainly invigorating! And, you know, right now I could use a good cuddle. Care to join me in this bed?”

♥ Site recommended story ♥

Hot spanking fiction by Rod Cayenne

“What a stupid thing to buy me!”

“Dad!”

“Well, I retired from teaching almost twenty years ago, why would I want a cane? A walking cane perhaps, but not a punishment cane!”

“Dad, you’re so ungrateful!”

“Well, it’s a particularly useless present, son. The cane’s made for a boy’s flesh. No chance of this being used. Unless young Julian’s stepped out of line, of course?”

“Oh no, no, no, no! Leave Julian out of this. He’s a bloody good kid, raised thousands for charity, just you be the loving grandfather figure to him, please Dad.”

“OK son, glad to hear he’s such a paragon of virtue. No faults that need correcting at all?”

“No, none at all. Really! Listen, I only bought that cane as a joke. I thought you might want to mount it on the wall or something. Like a trophy.”

“You really are a stupid boy,” said the old man, flexing the cane in his bony hands. “I ought to beat that stupidity right out of you. Just like old times!”

“Dad, get real please! You can’t do that! For heaven’s sake!”

“How much did this cost you, then, son?”

“Well, you shouldn’t be asking me that, as it was a present.”

“But I want to know!”

“OK. OK, it was a tenner, Dad.”

“A tenner, eh? Well, that’s what we used to call a ten stroke caning, back in the day.”

“Oh, Dad!” said the son, not liking at all where this was leading.

“Come on, boy. I want to play with my birthday present. And you’re the only one here. Get that bottom bare for me!”

It had been a long time since this particular father had caned this particular son. The air was electric. The tension broke as the son agreed quietly.

Both men sighed as the son’s trousers dropped to the floor, and were then stepped out of. Underpants followed. By now, the son was beginning to feel really stupid. His father, however, was just beginning to enjoy his birthday. Again, he flexed the cane and allowed himself a hearty laugh, much to his son’s disdain.

“A tenner then, son.”

“I’d rather have a sixer, Dad.”

“Big boys need rather more than a sixer, lad. Maybe a dozen, or a baker’s dozen?”

“Oh Dad! OK, OK! I’ll settle for a tenner then.”

CRACK! A first stroke landed, taking its victim by surprise, followed by horror as the pain kicked in. This was going to be no picnic! His father had lost none of his touch! For an old man, he packed a mean punch!

SWISH-CRACK! The cane landed wickedly on the mature son’s buttocks, leaving a scorching red line of pain.

CRACK! The old man laughed as he landed a third stroke right on target. He hadn’t lost it!

CRACK! The meaty cheeks were sliced again, causing a loud groan from the victim. Despite this, his obedience and submissiveness made him thrust his bottom up ready for the next assault.

CRACK! The cane lashed down.

CRACK! Again the cheeks were thrust upwards to receive the punishment, which the son found curiously unwelcome and welcome at the same time.

CRACK! The birthday present lashed spitefully, as weal upon weal marked the buttocks.

CRACK! The caning was near ending, but both men were enjoying the unusual turn of events. Father’s sadism had been rekindled, and his son’s submission complemented it perfectly.

CRACK! The penultimate stroke caused an unwilling wail of discomfort.

CRACK! It was over! Dad dropped the cane and flopped down exhausted in the nearest armchair. His birthday treat had made it a memorable day. He chuckled to himself as he noticed his son was still bent over the table, red striped rear clearly displayed.

Eventually, the son raised himself from the table, rubbing his bottom as he did so. A wry smile crossed his face as he caught his father’s gaze.

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind about this cane! It’s a splendid present, thank you son. I think we should use it on birthdays and anniversaries. It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“And maybe we could give it an outing on the first of every month?”

“Yes, alright Dad.”

________________)

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Warning: Contains adult material. Forbidden to those under the age of 18.

This blog is intended for adults only. All listed sites, pictures displayed or referred to in this blog feature consenting adult models and players over the age of 18. All stories and artwork featured are fiction only and refer to adults in role play. This blog is not suitable for persons under the age of 18.

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The Cane

Many people use the rattan cane in their adult relationships. Sometimes this is for domestic discipline. Others use it to spice up their sex lives. Some just like recreating experiences from long ago. You will find fictional stories here which explore these themes. All the characters are aged 18 or over.

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All characters appearing in this blog are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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"We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey" - Kenji Miyazawa, author and poet (1896-1933)

Thought for another moment

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